All These Things That I Have Done
by Kreed1789
Summary: The Courier Six, Skylar; is alone despite being surrounded by friends. Join in as Skylar and her companions travel the wastes in search for what's really important in life. Watch as she struggles through the guilt of past mistakes and hope for the bright future. F! Courier x Veronica femslash. Summary sucks, just try it.


**_All These Things That I Have Done._**  
**A/N I don't own anyone or thing in the Fallout world. Sorry, and please be gentle. It's my first published fan fic and I don't have a beta.**

**This is going to be a femslash so deal with it. **

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**Prologue**

"War. War never changes. Since the dawn of human kind, when our ancestors first discovered the killing power of rock and bone, blood has been spilled in the name of everything: from God to justice to simple, psychotic rage. In the year 2077, after millennia of armed conflict, the destructive nature of man could sustain itself no longer. The world was plunged into an abyss of nuclear fire and radiation.  
But it was not, as some had predicted, the end of the world. Instead, the apocalypse was simply the prologue to another bloody chapter of human history. For man had succeeded in destroying the world - but war, war never changes. In the early days, thousands were spared the horrors of the holocaust by taking refuge in enormous underground shelters, known as vaults. But when they emerged, they had only the hell of the wastes to greet them"

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**In the Mojave Wasteland**  
She stood there, looking over the railing of the beat down, ancient, elevated highway, into the distance. Despite the dust and sand picked up from the fierce whispers of a sandstorm on the way, She could see the faint outline of the Sierra Nevada mountain range. The Courier loved the mountains, when they were visible. Usually from her elevated position, she would watch the sun sink down behind the Sierra Nevada. It was one of the few things she still was able to enjoy while taking this route.  
Her friends and traveling companions decided they would stay behind in the Mojave and recollect themselves after their last delivery. If she was honest with herself, she was glad her companions were not with her. This was a road she preferred to walk alone, even if it was just a routine delivery to a recluse living in the divide  
As the gusts of wind picked up, so did the back of her war torn leather trench coat. The tails of the coat were worn and holy and flapped rapidly with the wind. The leather was weathered in the right place showing the age of the faithful coat. The coat, Courier Six, called her own; was of extreme value. All the things it had seen, the bullets it had stopped, the life It had lived, could be seen in all the lines of the coat. The courier's blood red hair, was pulled up on top of her head in a high pony tail. And the tail of hair whipped around violently with hot desert wind.  
The courier adjusted her armored chest plate under the coat to prevent any kind of chafing of the materials. She briefly remembered how she acquired her current armor. The poor bastard of a ranger, who's body was decomposing in the hot Mojave sun. At that point, how he died didn't matter, what did matter was that his items were being wasted on a dead body, and she wanted that protection. The courier chuckled at the memory of her companions' reactions to her nonchalantly taking the armor off of the body, and the smell that followed the week after.  
Hearing a jingling noise from around her neck, she quickly grabbed the noise making dog tags and stared at them. They read:  
LT. FIRST CLSS  
OMERA, SKYLAR  
UNIT:136 SQD:1  
They were from her time in the New Californian Republic Army. She was a hard worker and a good solider, but she had done somethings she wasn't proud of and kept her tags as reminder for her deeds. Skylar, Courier Six, sighed and grabbed her tags and shoved them back into her shirt under the armor.  
Pulling deeply on the cigarette she was currently nursing, she removed it from her mouth and flicked it, incidentally, into the strong wind. Only to have the cigarette fly back into her rough jeans and burn them ever so slightly.  
"Shit!" Skylar cursed under her breath and patted out the embers on her worn down jeans, and then sighed.  
Skylar held her breath as she secured the painters' mask to her face. She hated the thing it made her feel claustrophobic, but It was better then having the sand flood her lungs. As she did this, Skylar raised her wrist mounted computer,the Pip-boy 3000. As the screen flickered to life she pressed the buttons to switch to the views of her maps and destinations she had. The destination flickered on the screen and the Courier sighed again.  
She still had seven miles to go before she reached the supply drop and the on screen clock said it was already 4:30. Skylar pressed the power button and shut the wrist mounted computer down. Sighing, Skylar sat down on the guard rail of the elevated highway, wind and dust assaulting her face. She was three hours behind schedule and now after the drop she would need to make a camp for the night. Her "admiration" of this area had lasted for about ten minutes before she stood up and began to move onward. The courier's stomach rumble and she cursed quietly, she would need to stop again soon to eat.  
Sooner than she intended she had to stop again as her Pip-boy started to beep at her, telling her a radio transmission was trying reach her. Skylar sighed and tuned into the frequency.  
"Veronica to Skylar, Come in Skylar."  
Crap Skylar though and begrudgingly picked up her receiver  
"This is Skylar, reading you Loud and clear." she replied.  
Veronica was really Skylar's only true friend and favorite traveling companion, but Veronica was loud and could potentially be annoying.  
While waiting for her friends reply, Skylar pulled out her irradiated water canteen and chugged it down, before placing it back into her side satchel.  
"Are you there yet?" Veronica asked like a child on a road trip.  
"Why are you complaining? You aren't even with me this time," Skylar held her head with one had as the other hand held the receiver. She let go of the transmission button and took a deep breath before picking back up.  
" No," she sighed "I'm running three hours behind schedule So that means I wont be back till tomorrow morning, if I get up at dawn." Skylar let her friend absorb the information.  
"But I'm bored, I've got nothing to do," Veronica complained annoyingly.  
"How can you be bored? You are in an exclusive prewar casino, and you can't find something worth while to do aside from annoy me while I'm working?"  
It was silent for a minute, as Veronica stewed bitterly at Skylar's comment.  
"I'm not that bad..." Skylar could hear the pout behind Veronica's words.  
Skylar sighed and picked up the line, "You're right, I'm sorry. Why don't you go mess with Arcade?" Skylar suggested hopefully.  
Arcade Gannon was another companion Skylar had the privilege of traveling with. He was a doctor or what could considered a doctor in this day and age. He also just so happened to be the most germaphobic person in the Mojave. Then throw on top that he was also perpetually  
single due to the lack of other gay men, and you had a scared. little boy in a big mans body.  
"Arcade got sick this morning after you left" there was a pause and then a chuckle on the other end and an echo of "Stop being a big baby! I've seen six year olds with more cajones and immune system than you!"  
This made Skylar laugh out loud, "How bad is it?" Skylar chuckled

"Well you know Arcade, he thinks he's dying." Veronica said sarcasticly.  
Skylar sighed and said "Just give him two sleeping pills, and then draw on his face when he's out cold."  
Veronica laughed and agreed with the idea.  
"Alright," Skylar sighed again, "I'll make this drop and get back home as soon as I can. Okay?"  
There was silence and then Veronica picked back up and said "Okay, hurry back. Veronica out." Then with that the transmission ended.  
Finally, she thought. Quiet again.  
Skylar put the receiver back through the strap and continued to move down the highway. Home was a word she didn't like. The casino didn't feel like home. Home, was this road. The road she was on right now. This was the road she helped establish. It was because of her need of adventure and duty, that trade caravans went down this path. This was her home. Every path, every short-cut, every pot-hole, every beaten up and dead rusty car sitting on the highway, was what she called home. She raised it from infancy, protected it and nourished it with trade, until cities began to form.  
Then with the accidental delivery of a single prewar package, all the hope the route had shown the world of rebuilding and beginning anew. Gone in a flash of light and heat as the atomic missiles, laying in hibernation; deep below the surface of these cities went off. One by one, and like the bombs one by one gone were the hope and dreams of humanity beginning again. That's why this was her home, She caused this so as punishment for her carelessness she walked this route when she could, to mourn for the future lost.  
This place accepted her, despite what she did to it. That was why she was home. So yes Skylar would head back quickly, when she was done making the drop of supplies, but she would not be heading home. This road was hers to walk, This road was her home.

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**A/N so yeah tell me why you think? If I should continue and possible ideas**.


End file.
